


Devotee

by BizzyInaBanjo18



Category: Original Work
Genre: First person original story, Original work - Freeform, Other, original short story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:28:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29899056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BizzyInaBanjo18/pseuds/BizzyInaBanjo18
Summary: "Yes, he would cry sweet honey to match his honey brown eyes."I saw a boy, a handsome boy. A smart boy, a kind boy, a boy that had ambitions. A boy that could resolve any problem that would cause me distress. A boy that, if he were to smile at me, it would make me feel desirable, important, special.A boy that could make you question the physical limitations God has on how grandiose he could make a human.I could tell all this just by looking at him.If you saw him, you would say just the same.





	Devotee

First time I saw him was when he came to our school. I didn’t know why he was there. So many people from different schools trotted through the school gates,  _ table tennis tournament _ , I thought. Our school had table tennis tables, but we had a lot of things so it was difficult to know why he was there. Schools have a lot of things. 

His blazer swung over his shoulders, his shoes dirty from our muddy field, it always goes waterlogged in the rain. His muddy shoes matched his muddy hair, curls dangling over his eyes like fluff. Despite his dirty shoes the rest of his attire was fairly formal, cuffed trousers , his tie placed neatly in his sweater vest like an envelope. One hand on his hip and the other in his pocket. 

He walked down the school corridor with multiple other students, there was a group of them but they didn’t seem to shine like he did. He was a few steps ahead of them, a good few steps in front. He walked in a pompous manner that I found endearing, arrogance can sometimes be allowed in a person. A person of his calibre would attain hubris as a kind of waste product, one that should be embraced, for without it, they may not be as talented. He was talented, important, I could tell just by looking at him walk through the corridor. His uniform was bright blue, ours bright green. We contrasted, but opposites attract so all was good.

Mrs West was holding open a door to the sports hall on the opposite side of the corridor as to where I was standing. The group of school outsiders marched into the sports hall, he was the first one in, then the rest of them. I peeked through the door just before she closed it. I saw tables, multiple little tables. Chess. Of course chess. He would be good at chess. 

I had to know his name, I had to meet him, well maybe not meet him because I wouldn’t know what to say. I was meant to go home at three, but our class got let out later so we were leaving at around ten past three. I was glad, once I saw him I was glad we were sent out late. 

I stayed for a while, left my bag with Kenny, who I was initially meant to walk home with. The far exit would lead you to the school field, all I’d have to do is turn left and around the building until I reach the windows. The windows to the sports hall where I can see him again. Kenny might be confused as to why I would rush off so quickly but that wouldn’t matter. I could explain to Kenny the next day in Maths. Yes, all would be good.

I ran across the field, the mud splashing on my shins. I didn’t take much notice of it. The windows were dusty, distorting my view. I was fairly small anyway so I had to stand on my tip toes. I couldn’t see him, there were many people there, I raised my head as high as possible but that was evidently futile because he seemed to have escaped my vision. I wanted to cry, I seemed to have lost him, I might not ever see him again.

I walked morosely out the school gates, one indelible question hovering in my mind; who is he? His name, I wanted his name.

I spent the next few days solely thinking about him, where I can see him again, when I will see him again. School became a bore, learning things that I would never need to use in my future life. Before I saw him, it was boring yet somehow satisfactory. After I met him, once I saw what God could create, everything around me became mediocre, minor, pathetic. I knew what I wanted to do, I wanted to see him again. Know who he is. Know what he likes and dislikes. 

‘Are you okay?’ Kenny walked up to me in the canteen at lunch, I was sitting by myself, eating my cheese and ham sandwich that I made. I didn’t usually sit on my own but today I did. 

‘Yes, why wouldn’t I be?’ I asked her, but I kind of figured what the answer would be.

‘You seem rather sad.’ She sat opposite me, her head tilted to the left and rested on her palm.

‘Oh, is that so?’ I said.

‘Yes, everyone thinks so, Jared told me you never talk in PE anymore, which is unlike you. Don’t ya think?’ Her head shot up and leaned in closer to me as if she was trying to dodge a ball being thrown at her.

‘Is it unlike me to not talk? I’d say my usual verbal communication is barely adequate.’ I leaned back a little, slightly uncomfortable by Kenny’s close proximity to me.

‘Oh, well that’s just pretend you used to talk a lot and now you don’t. Just to make this easier.’ She shuffled back to her seat. The canteen was rather loud, it was lunchtime so there were many kids - mostly in the younger years- shouting, laughing, tripping over the wet floor sign, throwing food. I hated it. 

Kenny’s eyes fixated on me and she left out a rather hyperbolic and almost sardonic sigh. ‘Where did you go the other day? We were meant to walk home and you just left. That was like, weird.’ 

‘I told you, I had to go to the toilet real quick,’ I said, rather defensively.

‘Okay, but just like, you’ve seemed off ever si-’

‘Do you know who those people were at our school?’ I swallowed the last bit of my ham and cheese sandwich with a large gulp and urgently released the question as if it had been stifled in my mouth forever.

‘What people?’ Kenny replied.

‘The people for the chess thing, or table tennis, can’t remember.’ I was now leaning in, interrogating her.

‘Uhm, I don’t know, some people from another school. I don’t take notice of chess or table tennis.’ She crossed her arms.

I sighed, ‘Shame.’ 

She took out a banana from her Nike school bag and tumbled it on the table. ‘Why did you ask?’

‘Dunno, curious.’

‘Curiosity killed the cat, that’s a very well known phrase that is utilised in everyday life, including this circumstance.’ She crossed her arms on the table. I nodded in agreement.

  
  


A few weeks would go by when I would see him again.

The last lesson of the week was maths. I made a deal with myself to spend at least 10 minutes of working and not thinking about him but thinking about composite functions; that was what we were learning. 

‘Composite functions are functions that are written in another function, you substitute one function into another. You apply one function to an independent variable and then apply-’  _ I wonder if his school is nearby. No stop.  _

_ Composite functions. _

‘Composite functions can be used to determine trigonometric-’  _ How old is he? Is he in my year? No stop. _

_ Composite functions.  _

Completing the function for x was a rather painful task since I struggled to listen to the explanation.  _ What if he has a significant other? No stop. _

It felt like the longest lesson ever, going on for eternity as I was in between the internal conflict in my mind. Reality and fantasy, futility and determination, insanity and sanity. 

The bell did eventually ring, maths was over. School was over. I had no plans to walk home with anyone, just me by myself trotting down the street. 

I was walking along the main street of Fingwood, the cold South London breeze tickled my ears and nose, causing them to turn pink or purple, I couldn’t tell. The shade that humans turn when it gets cold. 

The shops on either side of the street closed one by one like dominoes, as if my presence caused them unease. 

I walked along silently, no earphones, I didn’t like music. 

Yes, I don’t like music. Or maybe I do but I forget what music. It doesn’t matter anyway, music has little significance to my story. 

The cyclical motion of my leather school shoes clamping on the concrete pavement rang in my head like a telephone. My eyes fixated forward as if some intangible chain was clamped on them. I must’ve looked like a robot to everyone. In fact, I did look like a robot to everyone. My face nonchalant, indifferent, my arms shot to my sides, and my feet moving forward one after the other. 

This was how I walked home most of the time. It was seldom for my eyes to stray away ever slightly from the direction in which I was walking. 

But that day they did, why they did is clear, obvious. Serendipity. My eyes strayed to the right, where the line of shops halted to a small park on the other side of the road. The park was stagnant most of the time, just a small square of greenery surrounded by towering trees. But it seemed to shine now, for there was one figure in it that looked as resplendent as the sun.  _ Was it him?  _ No, it couldn’t be. Too good to be true. 

I raced across the road without hesitation. I didn’t bother to look left or right, just crossed the road. A few cars yelled obscenities at me for my carelessness as I dodged through the moving ones. It was lucky I survived. 

I reached the fence to the park, it was wooden and rather coarse on my hands as they pressed against it. My eyes rested on the top of the fence; I was slightly crouched so he couldn’t see me. The fellow pedestrians would figure that I was strange, just staring into the rundown, stagnant park. It wasn't strange though because it was him. 

After a few seconds I realised it was him. His fluffy brown hair concealing his eyes as he kicked the ball up and up with his feet. He was wearing his school uniform, his blazer wrapped around his waist with his school bag flung to the side of the grass. I viewed his foot dexterity in awe, the perpetual motion of kicking the ball up with such ease was amazing.

I don’t know how long I stood there, peering over the fence. Time seemed to pause just to allow me to watch him, on his own, kicking the ball up and down. My eyes were as wide as biologically possible, or maybe even more. I was completely enthralled by him that it never even crossed my mind if he could see me. If he looked up from his focused gaze on the ball, our eyes would’ve locked together, he could have seen my eyes staring earnestly at him

_ If he did, what would he say? Would he smile and invite me in through the small gate? Should I just let myself in? What would I say to explain the fact that I was watching him?  _

I didn’t have to answer these questions because he didn’t look up. His eyes stayed firmly on the ball, my eyes stayed firmly on him. 

A generic ringing sound blasted from my blazer pocket. It was my mum calling me. Probably asking me why I wasn’t home yet. 

His face shot up, I ducked down. I figured he probably saw my enthralled eyes. My heart began to pound as I declined my mum’s call. I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran. I ran home without bothering to look back at him. 

I could hear a distant but exclamative _ hey!  _ Which I wasn’t surprised about for that’s what people do when they see someone spying on them and then running off. 

He didn’t chase after me though, I felt rather sad about that. He didn’t chase after me. 

Once I got home I was met with a rather angry mum. A concerned and loving mum, but angry that I was home so late. 

She probably asked me why I was home and I probably made something up,  _ there was a fight at school. _ This would’ve been something I would’ve likely said. 

I stayed up in my room that day. I sat at my wooden desk covered with various stationary that hadn’t been used in awhile. My hands rested on my chin and I looked out my window at the scintillating stars of the night sky. I was smiling but my eyes stern while in the important process of daydreaming.

_ He would sit down on some steps and play 8 ball pool on his phone. I’d ask to join him and he’d say sure. I’d ask to play with him and he’d say sure. We’d play and I’d win. I’d ask if he let me win and he’d say yes but I should consider that a compliment. If he tried then lost, that would’ve been embarrassing. He would say that he thought that there was a possible way in which I would’ve won even if he did try. Therefore, he had to make sure that he didn’t try and just let me win, in order to maintain the enigma. I would laugh and he wouldn’t, he would just lightly smile and ask me my name. I’d answer it and then ask him his name. He’d answer it and then we’d know each other's name. _

I set my alarm clock for 6:00 am in the morning so I’d wake up a half an hour early to go on Instagram to try and find him. I’d preferably not like to think of him as a person who has Instagram but if I found him I wouldn’t judge. It’ll give me a chance to see him. I looked at who Kenny was following, then I would look at who Flo in year 12 was following. She was a girl that seemed to know a lot of people in our area. I scanned accounts tirelessly, I saw no profile pictures that resembled his beauty. 

This decreased my motivation for the day to come, but I realised at the end I’d see him. I’d see him again at the park, I knew I would. I walked to school again. The chartered street in which I lived housed many students at Fingwood school whom I was acquainted with. 

I strolled past Eric’s house, the nice boy I sit next to in English, his mum is one of the dinner ladies so he usually walks to school with her. Sometimes we’d walk together, me, Kenny, Eric and his mum. His mum was nice so sometimes when she’d save crisp packets, muffins or cookies from the canteen and give us some when we walked home. This was very rare though, she would usually have to work late, cleaning up and such. Most of the time it was just me and Kenny.

_ He would get the bus for twenty minutes at 6:30 am, leaving South London. He’d reach a bus stop around half an hour away from his school, take a detour walk for exercise through one of the many forest trails in Southern England's countryside. He’ d listen to music, the genre would vary but most of it would come under the umbrella of ‘indie’. He would consider this his alone time, time to just relax and take in the English countryside before he has to undergo the physical and mental draining that was secondary school. Walking through the arched trees, having a few protruding leaves brush through his fluffy hair like a comb, he wouldn’t worry about the athletic trials after school, his speech in front of the year at assembly, the maths test (in which it is expected of him to ace); this is time for him to escape for awhile before the action packed and hectic schedule ahead of him. _

Due to my early awakening I walked alone this morning. The radiant mist of sunrise tickled my eyes, it looked like the town was coated with honey.

Don’t let the pretty sky deceit you, Fingwood was a normal everyday town, nothing special. You would recognise a few people, and some people you would have no idea who they are. The rural-urban fringe, that was where we were. I had no opinion on being in the rural urban fringe, it was just a blend of both. 

I reached school a few minutes earlier this morning, I looked at my phone. It was 7:20am. I shrugged, I thought it best to wait for Kenny to come so I could walk in with her. I didn’t like the idea of walking into school on my own, all eyes on me. 

I hovered around the entrance, trying to not make eye contact with the kids and teachers walking through the gates. Kenny eventually came round the corner, skipping jovially to what I assumed was her earphones. I nodded to her. She looked at me, her bubbly glee seemed to fade as her eyes fixed on mine. I smiled at her, emphasised with a little wave. She smiled at me, but a kind of superficial smile. She told me that I had been acting strange, but to me I was normal. Perception is strange.

I slipped in beside her as she walked through the gate, completely ignoring Mrs Wilmus greeting us at the gate.

‘What music are you listening to?’ I asked Kenny.

‘Music.’ She turned to me, picked out her left earbud and offered it to me. 

I smiled at her but shook my head. ‘I’m okay thanks.’

‘Okay, I keep forgetting if you’re the one that doesn’t like music or not.’ She plucked the ear bud back in her ear.

‘I’m the one who doesn’t like music, yes, however that could be because I haven’t found or have the urge to find music I do like.’ 

‘Tell me when you do.’ She smiled at me again, still the same superficial smile.

‘Yes I will do so.’ I nodded.

Walking into school was always a killer, the towering industrial building made for the sole purpose of child labour. The dissipation of the orangey-pink morning mist left charcoal grey. It felt like a very gloomy morning. All school mornings were gloomy.

_ Just have to get through this, then I’ll see him, well hopefully. No, I will see him; serendipity. _

The day went the same pace any other day prior went. I would sit in class, internally battle with myself:  _ I’ll do at least 10 minutes per lesson of work, then I can think about him. No, I need to focus, he wouldn’t want to be with someone who has no prospects. But, it’s hard, it’s hard to work when he’s in my mind.  _

I sat with Kenny and Jared at lunch. We usually sit outside to eat but because of the solemn weather we thought it best to sit at one of the tables in the canteen. Apparently grey clouds connote to sadness. 

Our positions around the table were usually the same every lunch, Jared and I on one side, usually to the left, and Kenny on the other. Her hands would usually be folded on the table as if she was about to interview us, or interrogate us. The former being the most common one, the latter being the most uncomfortable one.

‘Have you guys done the homework?’ There was always an authoritative and, dare I say it, condescending undertone with her questions.

‘Which homework?’ Jared asked.

‘Have you done homework in general, like school things?’ She tapped her fingers on the plastic lunch table to form a rather irritating beat. Perhaps the beat to one of the songs that she listened to in the morning.

‘Are we not doing school things right now?’ I asked.

‘Depends what your definition of school things is?’ She winked at me, I don’t know why. I don’t know why people wink at other people but they do.

‘I’d say eating at lunch is a definite school thing because without lunch we won’t have enough energy to do actual work.’ Jared nodded, affirmatively.

‘Mhmmm.’ Kenny said.

‘And also, if we didn’t have lunch, then the school would get human rights people on them.’

‘That is true.’ Jared turned to me. 

‘Yep, very true.’ Kenny nodded.

I assumed that the conversation was over, I turned away to look out the window, the green hedges surrounding the school reminded me of a wall, a wall segregating us from the outside world. I hated that, the thought of being isolated, suppressed into this tiny yet big microcosm of laborious life. 

Kenny and Jared were talking, talking about homework in which I didn’t do and didn’t care about. I was thinking about him.

_ He would hate school. He would say he liked it to his family, friends, teachers for it was the place where he excelled academically. But he hated it. He didn’t like talking to people, talking to people about their interests because he knew they were all artificial. Someone would say they like hockey, he’d nod, but he’d know that they don’t really, they were just good at it. Someone would say they like politics, but he’d know they don’t really, it just gives them the internal satisfaction of thinking they know everything about the world. He’d want someone like me, I think, someone that doesn’t really know their interests but wouldn’t mind saying that. He’d introduce me to new things, I’d find happiness in certain aspects of life that I would’ve known little about prior to meeting him. He’d make me a happier person. _

‘Are you still not talking?’ Someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, it was Jared. He smiled at me, the smile not superficial but more genuine. He was looking down at me, I scanned the rest of the canteen. It was empty, the cleaners and dinner-ladies scooping all the leftover rubbish on the table and floors (probably muttering curse words under their breath). I looked at the clock: 1:56pm Four minutes until lunch finishes.

I realised I was still sitting at the table. my ham and cheese sandwich placed neatly in front of me, not even taken out of the cling film. 

‘Sorry, I must’ve been day dreaming.’ I looked up at Jared, looking into his hunter green eyes.

‘You’ve been doing that a lot recently.’ He laughed but his eyes looked serious.

‘Is everything okay?’ He reached his hand out to help me stand up.

‘Yes, just been struggling to go to sleep, with school things and all.’ I took his hand.

‘Okay space cadet, I’m going to call you space cadet now okay?’ He smiled at me.

‘Yes okay.’ I flung my school bag around my shoulder.

We walked out of the canteen, the last two diners. We waved at Eric’s mum, she waved back at us.

‘She’s nice.’ Jared said.

‘Yeah she is.’ I said.

My plan was this: linger around the toilets after school, wait until I see Kenny, Jared and Eric leave so I can walk home by myself with no questions asked. It wasn’t that I didn’t like walking with them, I just wanted a chance to stay around the park for a while, wait for him to come. 

I walked at a slightly faster pace as I usually would walk home, my shoes collided with the concrete pavement as if I were a ruminant species with hooves. I made a note to myself to tell Kenny that I found a genre of music I like; the beat of ruminant hooves trotting on concrete. 

I wondered about the last time I saw a ruminant creature, if I ever did so. I must have. Every child must have seen a ruminant creature but I wouldn’t have remembered because I was too young. 

Mr Addams, the friendly baker was waving from across the street. I waved back. He was standing under the black and white awning that most bakery’s have. He continued to wave, his chubby fingers moving side to side laterally. I decided to stop with my waving and proceed with my journey. I looked around to the direction he was waving. The same old business-district, rural-urban fringe town shops with the same old awnings. There appeared to be no visible person on the street for which he could be waving to other than me. He still continued to wave however, even when I stopped. I thought it strange but then remembered he was a weird guy, well I didn’t really remember. I realised that he was weird, was a better way of putting it. 

He looked like a baker in which one would instantly imagine if some said the word ‘baker’; short, fat and white. His baked-goods were no different from other bakeries; cinnamon swirls, Danish pastries, Cornish pasties. They were nice yes but nothing special; if they were special I would have an opinion on them. Most of the shops in the business district of Fingwood I had little opinion on. The supermarket sold supermarket things; eggs, carrots, fruit pots, toilet papers, microwaved meals. The butchers sold meat; sausages, ham, beef. The Café sold beverages as well as offering vacant seats in which you can take while you consume your beverages. I had no opinion on them. 

_ He would respect them, but criticise them. Criticise their choice of humility, the limitations they reinforced on themselves. Their executive decision to not expand from this small town on the rural urban fringe of South London. His grandeur aspirations were not aligned with those of the owners in the business district. He was going to soar. But he needed someone by his side, a level-headed and judicious character like myself that could not restrain him but protect him from soaring too high and forgetting the important things. He would know he needed that person but not who it was going to be. But I knew, of course I knew. _

I reached the park, the tiny park cutting off the row of shops, indicating the exit of the business district.

I peered over the wooden fence once again, he was not there. I sighed. I looked at the clock on my phone and realised that my juvenile impatient trotting may have led me to the park a little earlier than the day before. The time was 3:56pm. The sky was a strange ocher, the sun concealed between the clouds caused a yellow tint. I decided to wait, I couldn’t wait around the entrance because then he’ll see me, but I could wait around the nooks and crannies of the trees surrounding the park. 

The wooden gate was firmly shut and somehow looked untouched. The steel hook eye clamped on the gate looked rusty, something you couldn’t open with ease. I walked through the gate and aimed for the tree on the opposite side.

I clamped my foot on one of the low level branches, enclosed both my hands on the elongated one above my head. My shoes skidded on the sap of the tree trunk as I ascended upwards. This undaunted escapade was fairly out of character for me; the things I’d do for love.

Various leaves smacked my face as if I said something rude. Once I reached a branch I expected would hold my weight, I flung my legs over and tried to get myself as comfortable as I possibly could. I realised the unplanned height I had climbed up to, I guessed around six metres.

I sat there for a while, my chin rested on my palm, and just waited. I texted my mum to say that I was going to be later again because I was helping Kenny with school things. She believed me because there was no reason for her not to believe that I was helping her with school things; school things take up the majority of an adolescents life.

My black leather shoes dangling from the branch reminded me of bats, scary I know but if they were to be bats they would be sleeping bats so all was good. The cold breeze swished through me like a river. I had no coat so I wrapped my arms around myself to keep me warm. 

I contemplated going home. I thought it stupid of me to wait this long, but as I was just about to lower my body, I heard the steel hook eye scraping it’s way up to unlock the gate then shutting it forcefully. I raised myself up on the branch again and smiled. From the position that I was sitting, his fluffy hair was the only point of him that I could see as he strolled to my field of view. He had a ball between his dirty leather shoes again. His tie was loose and his sweater vest tucked out of his trousers.  _ Long day.  _ I assumed.

What I was planning to do when he came was an enigma to me, I had made no decisions to approach him, smile at him, speak to him. I thought it strange to do that now I had ascended up into the canopies.

Watching him, looking down at him as he went about his physical exertion seemed adequate to me. One day I will jump down, one day I will throw his ball back to him if he were to kick it deep into the trees unintentionally. We would become friends, then more than friends. I know it.

His sequence of ball kicking appeared regiment, five kicks up in the air, juggling between his left foot and right foot. They would reach the height of his belt then finish off with the grandiose kick of the left foot which would reach his chest. 

_ Left foot right foot. Left foot right foot. Left foooottt. _

_ Left foot right foot. Left foot right foot. Left foooottt. _

_ Left foot right foot. Left foot right foot. Left foooottt. _

The profuse sound effects emanating from the collision between his shoes and the ball never altered. All the same. He never missed a beat. I liked that, he was slick.

The finale ended with the forceful kick at the brick-made side of the Café directly next to the park. He would position the ball on the ground and give it a good thwack. It would ricochet right in the centre of the charcoal drawn goal, leaving a circular-shaped mud splatter on the maroon-brown brick. The kick was rather forceful, even I could tell from up high. No one came out of the Café to yell at him though. 

No one came out to shake their fist at the juvenile delinquent kicking a football at the side of their place of work. He seemed to pause as if to anticipatingly wait for his comeuppance, but no one came. I could sense his arrogant smirk, I could sense my arrogant smirk in reaction to the sense of his. 

He picked the ball up then swung his bag around his shoulder. He made his way out of my field of view that was constructed between the apertures of the branches and leaves. 

It never came to me the idiocy and futility of just crouching above the trees watching him, to me it was a prime source entertainment. 

I thought it best to wait for a while, make sure he’s left until I can jump down and make my own way home. I counted in my head to a minute. I slithered my dangling lags through the gaps between the branches and made my way down. I reached the bottom with a light thud. Tree sap trickled down the lapel of my school blazer slowly (sap is a viscous liquid). It looked as though I had been crying honey, I hadn’t though. Humans can’t cry honey

I pictured the tears running from his honey brown eyes, he could cry honey tears. He could be the only entity that could transgress the norm of crying bitter water. 

He would cry sweet honey to match his honey brown eyes.

I nodded to myself as I was en route to home, traveling along the streets of Fingwood. 

Yes, he would cry sweet honey to match his honey brown eyes. 

_ His favourite subjects and school would be the ones he’s good at; maths, geography, and above all, physical education. The adrenaline would drive him, the idea of competing, getting stronger gradually and showing people what he is physically capable of. Having people watching him race along the running track, his fluffy hair swooshing to the back to expose his big brown eyes. The absolute desire to please people was ingrained in him. But the one that he would want to please the most was me, I’d watch him, whether he's playing football or swimming at the leisure centre. He would smile up at him. I'd smile down, giving him the thumbs up. He’d nod. This exchange would look so little but mean so much. _

My parents assumed the profuse time I spent at my desk was for studying, however it was mostly my thinking up scenarios in my head, alternate universes for ways we could live our lives together. If only he went to my school, if only we could walk along the corridors, our arms locked together, and peer down at the inferior students of Fingwood high school. I’d like that, I’d like that very much. 

Looking up at the pint-sized stars dotted across the night sky through my window, my felt tip pen tapping my chin, I imagined the future laid out for me. The prosperous future full of love, adventure and fruition. It was exciting.

  
  


‘I met a boy.’ I told Kenny and Jared at our pre-ordained positions on the canteen table in the far corner. The weather still felt rather chilly outside so we were still eating in.

‘Oh wowww space cadet!’ Jared said, with an extremely enthusiastic tone. 

Kenny’s eyes widened and stuck her tongue between her teeth, rather passive aggressively.

‘Is this why you’ve been acting strange recently?’ Both of them said in unison, both of their right eyebrows were raised.

‘Yeah haha, all I’ve been thinking about is him recently.’ I blushed and darted my eyes upward to indicate I was thinking about him.

‘Don’t forget about us though, it is common you see, for people to detach themselves from their friends because of a new profound relationship.’ Kenny stated and looked to Jared for affirmation. They both nodded at me, rather patronisingly.

‘I won’t, you needn’t worry.’ I said and smiled a superficial smile that was almost uncanny to Kenny’s iconic superficial smile.

‘Will we meet him?’ Kenny looked at me with curious eyes.

I choked on my blueberry muffin. I didn’t know what to say. Yes they will meet him, but they couldn’t now. I hadn’t met him yet. It would be ludicrous to allow them to be blessed with his divine-like presence before me. 

‘Uhm no.’ I said while struggling to gulp down the last blueberry.

‘Why is that?’ Jared asked.

‘He lives far away,’ I said, while batting my eyelids. 

‘What is his name?’ Kenny leaned in, her eyes fixed on me.

‘Adam.’

Yes, Adam. The father of man, the source of all things we know.

‘How old is he?’ Jared was also leaning in.

‘15.’ 

15 seemed appropriate, the same age as us.

‘What is he like?’

‘Many things, too vast for me to express in a few sentences.’

‘What does he look like then?’ 

I should’ve been prepared for the incessant questions that sprung upon me, that’s what friends do when they discover that you’ve met a person who tickles your fancy.

‘He has honey brown eyes with fluffy hair.’ I said while batting my eyelids again.

‘Interesting,’ Kenny shuffled back to her normal eating position. 

‘Mhmmm.’ Jared's lips were scrunched up as if the information I had given him was bitter.

‘What?’ I said, no longer finishing up my answer with batting eyelids.

‘It’s just such a random thing, space cadet, that’s all.’ Kenny tilted her head and squinted her eyes.

‘Why is it random?’ I leaned into the table.

‘Well you’re not really the “meet a boy” type.’ Her air quotations irritated me. 

‘Well I did, so deal with it.’ My frustration was exemplified with the banging of my fists on the table. 

‘Okay.’ She winked at Jared, he winked at her. Their exchange of winks was interrupted with my loud eye rolling, there was no audible sound but it was still loud.

The remnants of my blueberry muffin shook on the table as I pushed myself up with extreme force. I swung my bag over my shoulder and side-eyed the two judgemental people at the canteen table. 

‘I’ll see you.’ I said, incredulously. 

Their reactions were outside my field of view, I assumed their faces would show surprised reactions; they would think that storming off was something that was ‘out of character’ for me. 

I didn’t think this was out of character, or maybe I didn’t think much of it. It was my right to be annoyed so whether it was out of character didn’t matter. 

I strutted through the congested canteen filled with hungry students that seemed to not know the fundamentals of dining etiquette.

I had no plan on turning back, but I had no plan on where I was going. I just wanted to be away from them because the further I felt from them, the closer I felt to him.

How dare they? How dare they question my relationship with him. Of course the statement ‘I met a boy’ alludes to an idea of apparent closeness, but the closeness between me and him transcends human bonding. I don’t need to explain myself to Jared, Kenny or even myself.

I sat in one of the toilet cubicles for the rest of lunch, reading the compass-carved writing on the blue cubicle door. The most crude profanity imagined that could fit the place one would excrete was written. Some phrases were scribbled out so it was hard to interpret what they said but easy to guess the incentive.

_ He would detest such immature humour. He would think that there’s nothing as lazy as implementing profanity into jokes in excess to try and divert the fact that one’s humour is not good. He wouldn’t be the funniest person in the world, but he wouldn’t try to be for his talents and charisma lied elsewhere. _

The disturbance of my day at lunch led me to walk straight home, not taking a detour into wonderland, but just walking home. 

My rhythmic pattern of ruminant trotting was now inaudible for the concrete seemed to absorb my steps. I was frustrated, the frustration turned into anger, but anger more at the complexity of the situation rather than them. 

I wanted him, of course I did and I was happy I found him, but there was still a part of me that wanted people to know I had him. To be specific, what I feared the most was that people didn’t believe I had him. I needed to do something, some form of evidence to show that he at least exists. One day I will introduce them to him, but I can’t now, I’m not ready.

‘You’re home earlier today.’ My mum was sitting down on our creamy blue sofa. Her head didn’t turn to greet me as I walked through the door, I assumed her eyes remained transfixed on the rectangle box in the centre of the living room that broadcasted her soap operas. There were many soap operas she liked because mums like soap operas, they were all the same to me so I had no opinion on them.

‘Yeah, I suppose I am.’ I headed for the stairs, hoping the conversation would be over.

‘What do you do after school?’ She now turned her head around to see me through the gaps between the poles of the stair banister. 

I sat down on one of the steps and wrapped my hands around the poles like a prisoner would.

‘School things, everything you can imagine school things to be in the prism of your mind, is what I participate in after school.’ 

‘Alright. As long as you’re not doing stupid things I don’t mind. You’re smart so I trust you.’ She looked up at me and grinned.

‘I am?’ 

‘Yes, you are honey.’ 

‘Okay, I’m smart.’ I mimicked her grin then continued up the stairs. That was easy enough.

I sat down at my desk and got out my lead pencil. It was rather blunt and I didn’t have a sharpener nearby so I just had to roll with it. I was not an artist, never had any interest in drawing, but when I pictured his face I picture it vividly. 

I started with his eyes, the coarse friction of the blunt pencil and the paper made me shiver, but it was worth it, to see him even if it was in the form of pencil. The dainty yet thickness of his eyelashes blended naturally with the honey brown whirlpools that was his eyes. I couldn’t show that his eyes were honey brown, I had no honey brown pencils. I drew an arrow and labelled it honey brown just above his head. His eyebrows seemed less noticeable, fully concealed by his fluffy curls. I could imagine the swift arks his eyebrows formed, beautifully crafted by God.  _ I will see them one day,  _ I thought.

His skin would scintillate, he was brown not only because of his incessant sporty excursions under the sun, but because of his ethnic ambiguity. It was unfortunate I couldn’t display this in the drawing, but as time went on I could easily buy more colouring pencils. His cute button nose contrasted with his sharp cheekbones. I crafted his lips for the finishing touch, imagining the strawberry red curves and conjuring them up on paper. They formed a smile, he was smiling at me.

I tilted my head as I looked down at the piece of paper traditionally used for mathematical equations. I was happy with my drawing, content for now. I pressed my index finger on my lips, kissed it, then pressed it down forcefully on my artistic interpretation of his ones.

  
  


‘Hah!’ I slammed the paper at the centre of the canteen table, my force cause Jared’s water bottle to shake a little.

‘What is that?’ Kenny looked up at me, perplexed.

‘It’s him! Adam, my man,’ I said.

‘You d-drew him?’ Jared pulled the paper towards him. He stared at the paper, intensely examining his freckles, chiselled jawline and impeccable lips. 

‘You’re a good drawer, space cadet.’ He looked up at me, there was slight concern in his ocean blue eyes.

‘When did you do this?’ Kenny asked.

‘Last night.’

‘How long did it take you?’ Kenny’s voice was loud but her eyes were still scanning the paper.

‘I don't know, not long.’ I said. I scratched the back of my neck. ‘Now do you guys believe me?’

‘Well, it’s only a drawing.’ Kenny looked up at me idly.

Jared frowned at her. ‘Yes, yes we do spade cadet, sorry about before.’ Jared winked at me.

‘Why don’t you come down and sit with us? we’re talking about the illusive and unscrupulous factors of time and how it deceives us into believing that life is meaningful.’ Jared smiled at me. 

‘I think I’m probably going to go work on my drawing.’ I looked at them, idly.

‘Okay,’ Kenny and Jared emitted a synchronised voice, as if they were one person, ‘stay safe.’

I nodded. ‘I’ll see you in class, one of the ones where we do writing because that’s what schools all about.’ 

They nodded back at me.

I walked through the school corridors. They were stereotypical school corridors, corridors that looked like they belonged in a school. I headed down the far end for the stairs. The stairs seemed rather quiet, almost stagnant. I assumed most students were in the canteen because the canteen was the place that being loud and boisterous was socially accepted. 

The sound of my leather shoes banging on the blue vinyl flooring that was the stairs echoed, cutting through the silence. I ascended up the winding stairs in the hopes of being met with the art department; they would most likely have the finest colouring pencils. 

When I got to the top, I felt slightly lost. I hadn’t been to this area of the school in awhile, I scanned the doors opposite to me to see if they had any indication that they were art rooms.

I walked to the first one  _ AB-7 _ . Whatever the  _ AB  _ stood for I didn’t know. Doors in big buildings have weird names, everyone knows that’s how it is.

I stood on my tiptoes and peaked through the small circular window. Just desks and chairs with clutters of books on the shelves.

I moved left to the next one, AB-6. This was almost identical to the first one.

I turned to the next one, AB-5. Just a standard generic class room like the other ones. I frowned. 

‘What can I do for you?’ An authoritative voice projected behind me. It was Mr Norcross; a tall man with glasses and a big noise, very big, almost cartoonish. 

He looked at me with his almost non-existent eyebrows raised. 

‘I just want to find colouring pencils,’ I said.

‘Are you a drawer?’

‘Well yes, in the loose sense of the word.’ 

‘I’ve never seen you around the art department.’ 

‘Okay.’ I paused, ‘there’s not much I can do about what you can see and what you can’t.’ 

He laughed, but not a happy laugh, an almost angry laugh. 

‘Well I'm just heading for the art classes so I guess I can let you in,’ He said.

‘That’s convenient, thank you,’ I said.

We walked along the corridor, passing the AB’s. The corridor was elongated like a tunnel, I thought we wouldn’t ever reach it. 

The corridor finally reached an ending. A bright red door that said ‘Art room’ in effervescent fonts and vibrant colours. 

Mr Norcross did the little technological things teachers do to open school doors, and let me in. 

‘Don’t be too long,’ He said, while holding the door for me.

‘I won’t, don’t worry.’ I clung to my drawing and held it tight to my chest so he wouldn’t see. 

The room was spacious yet confined. Piles and piles of paper in each corner, paintings of Bengal tigers, the sunset, the South London skyline, all hung up around the whiteboard. 

The windows now let in sunshine, the quick shift of weather was unexpected but not disappointing, the apertures of gold ricocheted on the paintings to form an almost idyllic setting of divine creativity.

I scanned the room for pencil pots or boxes, there was nothing on the tables except clutters of paint brushes. 

I turned to the windows and saw an array of pencils on the sill. I grinned. I peered down at them and my mouth was agape. All the colours you could imagine laid neatly to form an advanced rainbow. I almost didn’t want to take them out and ruin the pattern.

The colours went from yellow on the left, to black on the right. The ones I needed were honey-brown, muddy brown, and strawberry red. I travelled along the spectrum of colours to reach the near end point where I assumed the browns and reds would be. I felt as though I was in a kaleidoscope, surrounded by a world of colours. I wasn’t though, I was in the art room.

It was hard to choose between the colours, which one matched him the most. The red was easy to find, the brightest of the bunch to suit the brightest person alive. But the browns were difficult. 

Yes, his hair was the colour of mud, but it wasn’t mud, it was fluffy mud, I needed people to know that. I thought the honey brown would be the lightest brown, but the lightest brown didn’t evoke the sweet endearing side to his eyes that I’d hoped for. 

I scanned the clock to see that it was 1:56pm. I had little time, I picked the pencils on impulse and shoved them in my bag. I looked down at the drawing, ‘I hope you like it!’ and kissed his forehead. 

I had no intention of giving the pencils back, yes it was a shame that the pattern was now demolished, but I had to keep them. In case something happens to the first drawing, I’d have to make another. I headed for the door, casually but swiftly. I glanced at the paintings, at the beautifully crafted face of a red fox, his luminously- green eyes following me, I smiled at him, he couldn’t smile back because he was a painting, but he did. Somehow I know he did.

The rest of the day went by oh so slowly, but quickly at the same time. I went home the same way as usual, walking along the business district, stopping at the deserted park. Unhooking the steel hook eye then heading for the trees. 

My physical exertion up the tree was hard, I was not dressed for the job. Once I reached my branch I swung my bag on my lap, got out the notepad for me to lean on and the pencils. It took me a few minutes to balance my bag on the branch, I tried laying it down, then bolting it upright but nothing seemed to work. 

I then looked at the smaller branch above me and slid the loop of the bag handles through it like a coat hanger on a wardrobe rail.

I began to colour in his lips first. The strong red looked as though he had soaked them with wine. His muddy brown curls mimicked the colours of the branches around me, it gave an adventurous touch to him. And, last but certainly not least, his honey brown eyes, mouth-drooling sweetness that could enthral anyone. I spent time on his eyes, time to delineate the effervescing glow of his bronze whirlpools. 

Just as I finished, I heard the clamp of the steel hook eye, the rusty creak of the gate. My dangling legs swayed like a pendulum in excitement. I would’ve clapped, if I could clap in silence. He entered my field of view and I grinned.

He presumed with his juggling ball antics and I viewed the show from above. 

_ Left foot right foot. Left foot right foot. Left foooottt. _

_ Left foot right foot. Left foot right foot. Left foooottt. _

_ Left foot right foot. Left foot right foot. Left foooottt. _

My body swayed back and forth in the rhythm of his kicking. The sun lowered and caused an orangey-pink colour to pierce through my vision. The mist of rose-gold rays from the sunset flooded through the trees, the park, Fingwood, South London, the world. But the world didn’t matter because it was just me and him. 

The lighting was perfect for a photo. I got my phone out my left pocket and leaned down. I wanted to get a shot of him, but a shot that would show his face. I was too high.

I swung my legs around the branch and hung down with my arm. My dexterity resembled one of a monkey, I grinned thinking about monkeys because they were meant to be mischievous. 

My legs dangled in the air, brushing the bark and leaves around me. I figured he would assume the sudden rustling to be that of a squirrel, and therefore he’d dismiss it. To my convenience he did. I extended the arm holding my phone as low as I could. I now looked like a sleeping bat-monkey hybrid as my head was lowered.

I tapped the little white button in the centre of my phone to take the photo. My involuntary swaying as I dangled in the air distorted the focus of the image. I looked at it. 

The radiant mist of the sunset caressed his fluffy hair as he was looking down at his ball. his position looked as though he were an eclipse, protecting me from the sun. The photo was still taken from a rather inconvenient position. However the position in which I took the photo was the closest thing to convenience one could get when taking a photo of someone on the ground when one was up in the trees.

I pulled myself up slowly, using one of the branches as an aid. As I swung my legs around the branch and sat myself down once again, I sighed a sigh of relief. He didn’t see me, I didn’t disturb his ball juggling. 

My eyes squinted to gain a more distinct focus of the image. Then they widened.

Panic, disconcert, confusion began to run through my mind. The unthinkable. In that exact moment, the unthinkable sliced through my mind like a dagger.

W _ here are they? Did I get them?  _

_ What if they were gone? No, they can’t be. _

I was just about able to maintain my internal gasp. My heart elevated at drastic levels like one would do when they see the unthinkable.

I batted my eyelids, blinked again and again to flood out all the deceit in my eyes. My phone became moist due to the profuse sweat deriving from my palms.

I opened my eyes again, scanned the image, and they were there. Only a small fragment of one, yes they were there. The side of his honey brown left eye shone brightly even against the radiant mist. I sighed again, metaphorically and then literally; it was hard to keep in. He didn’t look up though, didn’t notice. 

I pressed the drawing in one hand and the phone in another to my chest. Hugging him felt like hugging a bundle of glee, euphoria, ecstasy. 

It went on again and again but I didn’t get bored. Never bored. 

Part two:

The next few weeks were the same routine, not paying attention much in school, walking home, climbing up the tree, getting down. I bought some special walking boots from the local outdoors shop in the Fingwood business district. 

The shopkeeper asked if I was a hiker, I just nodded. I wasn’t really a hiker, but I was planning to go on multiple hikes with him in the summer throughout the many forest trails Southern England attains. I put the boots on everyday outside the school gates to walk home with. They prevented me from getting blisters on my ankles. I also bought some tough terrain gloves for when I climbed up the tree; I started getting some hard skin on my palms from the coarse bumps and cracks on the branches.

My artistic talent progressed rather quickly, I drew a lot more pictures of him. Him, kicking his ball, him, walking to school, him, running around town. Me and him.

I had a special binder that was previously used for my academic coursework and kept my collection of art in there. I hid it under my bed, just so that no one could see it and steal him from me. I had a collection of  _ Staedtler _ pencils laid out just like the ones in the art room on my desk. Perfectly organised to form the vast spectrum of colours, shades, tones. 

I had a good little unit going on. I was happy, I think I was happy. Happiness is complex. 

Whatever the feeling I had, it was short lived, that space of time was short lived.

My mum called me down to the kitchen. I was in the middle of doing homework fairly half-heartedly. The rest of my heart in wistful gloom, longing to be up at my tree looking down on him. I took a seat at the end of the kitchen table, she was sitting opposite, at the head. Her hands pressed flat on the table, parallel to each other and to her concerned eyes.

‘I got a call from school,’ She said. I raised my eyebrows in fearful curiosity; I assumed it was about the colouring pencils. I forgot I stole them, I was so enthralled in the act of drawing that I had no intention of giving them back. 

However, her eyes looked more serious than a woman who just received a call that her child had just stolen some pencils.

I was confused; I knew it couldn’t be a good thing; my mum wouldn’t be looking at me like that. However, I also struggled to think of a time where I had done a horrid enough deed for the school to call my mum.

‘C-concerning what?’ I asked.

She leaned in, her concerned eyes turned to morose squinting. ‘They worry about you, Mrs Mortherm, she says you don’t seem as engaged as you usually do. You never pay attention and your work is below satisfactory let alone  _ your  _ capability.’ She threw her hands in the air, ‘Honey what’s wrong?’

I froze, unsure of what to say so I stared at her, attempting to look confused or surprised. ‘It just gets stressful mum, I’m sorry.’ I tried to hold back tears, tried to hold back my melancholy, but I couldn’t. I was crying and I didn’t know why. Except I did.

Everything came flooding through my mind like a nefarious tsunami. I was crying because I was sad, I had just been told by someone that I was not working the hardest I possibly could. I could've worked the hardest I possibly could, but I didn’t. 

How could he love me when I didn’t love myself? When I didn’t show the world the best of me? Foolish.

My mum swung herself up, raced to my side of the table, and engulfed me in her arms as if I was a fruit. We didn’t say much for a while, just her cradling me. 

‘I’ll try, mum.’ I said in a tear distorted voice

‘Okay, darling.’ She said, in a tear distorted voice.

I did try for the next few days, stifling my nihilism under a façade of engagement in my academics. I was smart, very smart, one of the top in my class before I met him. I had to work, just had to. It wasn’t easy to work though, it was hard. Everything felt so artificial, I didn’t want to read Romeo and Juliet, I didn’t want to learn about covalent bonds. I knew I had to though, he would want me to.

_ He was a man who had passions; ambition to do something amazing but not quite sure what. I would one day guide him; help him discover what makes him happy and not be worrying what the masses think. But he wouldn’t listen to me, he’d aim for the highest possible point so people will talk about him, people will feel uneasy in how much he captivates them. He would tell me that one day we’ll be on top of a podium together; he’d never let me leave his side. And that would be true; there will be a time where our story will be told and lived on forever and ever and ever. He wanted people to love him and spend days contemplating what life would like to be him. _

I made my way out the school gates one evening. I sat on a nearby bench to put my boots on as I would usually. Despite my deep but short talk with my mother, I had no intention of stopping my extra-curricular activity. 

I stood up and proceeded with my journey. My pattern of walking was less rhythmic. As much as I loved watching him from up above, I also hated the fact that I had to go home and do school work afterwards.

But I persevered, at least now I had him to keep me motivated, before I saw him I was running up a hill with no real end. 

Walking through the streets of Fingwood felt like walking through the desert. Not because it was hot but because it was static, no one was out. Just a couple of stray foxes, or just one fox that kept reappearing. I wasn’t scared because sometimes streets are busy and sometimes they aren't. That’s reality.

As I was crossing over to enter the business district, I felt a firm hand gripping my shoulder. I turned around, it was Jared. His grey eyes were narrowed, but not with suspicion, but with concern, like my mothers.

‘Hi Jared,’ I gulped. In the corner of my eye I could see Kenny standing with her arms crossed.

‘Hey space cadet.’ Jareds voice sounded soft and tentative, patronising, but soft and tentative. ‘Can you come with us?’ His hand patted my shoulder.

I nodded.

He took my arm and turned to Kenny. She looked at me as though she was trying to be tentative and soft, but she was finding it hard to do so. She grabbed my other arm.

They led me back to the direction from the school, further from the park. The place I was scheduled to be at.

‘Actually guys, I think I should go back. I nee-’

‘No!’ Kenny swung her body around in front of me and crossed her eyebrows. ‘We need to talk to you, so we’re going to talk to you.’ 

She turned back and heaved us forward, I almost stumbled to the ground. There was silence for the rest of the walk, no talking, no cars driving, even our steps were absorbed by the concrete.

We reached the school again. The gates were still open but the cars in the car park seemed to have vanished. 

‘Are we allowed to be here?’ I asked, breaking the silence.

They didn’t answer. We continued to walk through the entrance.

‘Should we go to the field?’ Jared turned to Kenny. 

‘Sure.’ 

We marched around the building to reach the field. It was plain flat grass that I was not long ago running across to see him. 

It was still muddy and the sound of the splodging mud from our steps flooded the desolate area.

As we reached the far end of the slightly irregular rectangle of grass, Kenny and Jared nodded at each other. They lowered themselves in sync and pulled me down with them.

‘I don’t want to sit on mud.’ I said.

‘Mud can wash off, can it not?’ Kenny asked.

‘Yes, you’re right Jared, it can.’

We sat down cross legged in a triangular shape. My hands rested on my knees. Both Jared and Kenny clasped their hands over mine. I stared at both of them idly, they stared at me affectionately, or at least trying to be perceived as affectionate.

‘We have brought you here to talk,’ Jared said.

‘We’re really worried about you, whoever this Adam is, he’s not doing you any good.’ Kenny said.

‘Why are you acting as if I talked a lot before anyway. As if I was the life of the party.’ I crossed my arms.

‘You must understand space cadet, we’re looking at the data here.’ Kenny leaned in, ‘When one sees a human suddenly behaving more reserved, it is one's obligation to analyse what events in that humans life could be a cause for that. You were a person with passions, interests, good grades, friends.’

‘But now you’ve changed!’ Jared exclaimed.

Kenny looked at Jared as if he had stolen the words from her mouth.

‘Yes, you’ve changed.’

‘Can you elaborate on my drastic  _ change _ .’ My air quotations hovered around my cheeks for a while to emphasise my scepticism.

‘Well like Kenny said, you had interests.’ Jared replied.

‘Such as?’ 

There was a pause, both Kenny and Jared looked up at the charcoal grey sky with their hands on their chins.

‘I-I can’t think of any at the moment.’ Kenny looked down at me again, ‘But I know you had them because everyone has them.’

I rolled my eyes, ‘Well even if I did have interests, how are you to know that I am not pursuing them now, like you said, I spend little time with you, perhaps that is because I am busy.’ I smirked, this caused them to grimace.

‘Are you?’ They said in a synchronised voice.

‘As a matter a fact I am, drawing, hiking, tree climbing, all these new hobbies I have taken up, they boost my serotonin.’

‘Oh yeah, I see you scurrying off on the pavement heading for the park.’ 

‘You’re trying to avoid us,’ Kenny said, impertinently.

There was yet another pause, but this time it was on my end. I had been avoiding them, I realised that it was rude to avoid your friends, even for love. I figured he wouldn’t have approved. 

I now clasped my hands on theirs. ‘You must understand, I have met someone, and they make me happy. That means that being my friend, my presence will have to be shared.’ My voice was soft and tentative like theirs were not too long before.

‘Fine, that’s okay.’ Kenny said idly. Jared nodded. I nodded.

‘Well, good, I’m glad it is.’ I stood up from the damp, muddy field. 

‘Where are you going?’ Kenny asked.

‘To see him, I see him everyday.’

‘Well good, we can meet him with you.’ Jared stood up and brushed the dirty mud of his trousers.

‘Wha-’ I was interrupted by the sudden trepidation of thunder and lightning flashing just over our heads. Jared recoiled back to the ground.

‘That was fucking terrifying.’ Kenny looked up at the sky, her bottom lip quivering instinctively.

‘Let's get going,’ Jared clapped his hands together and stood himself up again.

‘You take the lead, space cadet.’ 

‘Y-you can’t meet him right now,’ Spirals of rain thrashed upon me like rocks. 

‘Why is that?’ Kenny balanced her bag on her head to protect her from the profuse, and strangely weighted precipitation.

‘It’s complicated.’ I had to shout over the increasingly heavy rain. 

They both looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

‘It’s one thing to leave us for a boy, but it’s another thing to leave us for a boy that does not exist.’ They synchronised the words, cadence, volume, tone so precise and eloquent that it would’ve frightened the average person. 

I shook my head in disgust, ‘He does exist! I’ve shown you him.’ 

‘You’ve shown us a poor, mediocre and pathetic attempt at drawing!’ Their uni-voice was fairly querulous and exasperated. 

I propelled my buddy forward like a bull and pummelled them to the ground. 

I collapsed on top of the two people who were different but also the same. Mud splattered on my face and I recoiled.

The rain felt as though it was piercing through my skin. My vision was flooded with the mixed solution of mud and rain. I gathered myself and pushed my body up from the bundle of bodies.

They wiggled around in the mud like blind wrestlers. I forgot their hair colour, it was distorted by the brown and green in which engulfed them. Pathetic, they looked pathetic. 

‘Hey!’ I yelled. They looked up at me in unison, their legs seemed to be intertwined with each other like braids. 

They didn’t try to release themselves, they didn’t shoot up and charge at me. They just laid there, eyes slowly closing after every sharp stab of rain.

I got out my phone. My wet fingers caused a slippery surface on the screen, making it rather hard to press the apps. After a few seconds of struggling I was able to get onto the camera roll. I swiped through urgently, looking for him, looking for his honey brown eyes. I found him, the slight corner of one of his honey brown whirlpools caused a rush of adrenalin in me.

I shifted my gaze back to the bodies on the muddy grass. I smiled, my smile turned into chuckles, my chuckles turned into hysterical laughter. I towered over them like a skyscraper. Extended my arm and shoved the phone in their faces. 

‘Here he is!’ My hysterical laughter turned down back into proprietorial chuckles as I spoke.

There was another pause, the last pause I was involved in.

Their perplexed expressions didn’t correlate well with my imperious, stretched out face. They simultaneously looked at the phone then at me. Then at the phone, then at me.

‘There’s no one there.’ This time it was just Kenny talking, but Jared was nodding along as always.

I turned the phone around and looked at the image. My heart stopped for a few milliseconds.

My eyes narrowed, he was there. The corner of his honey brown eyes focusing on his ball was there. Jared’s leg flexed upwards in the effort of getting up.

I slammed my foot on his knee. He cried an agony-induced scream and flung his head back in the grass.

‘H-he’s here! He’s here.’ I shoved the phone back at Kenny’s face as Jareds’ was lying down with his eyes firmly shut.

‘You need help.’ Kenny’s bulging eyes fixed firmly on mine, not even one glance at the image I was forcefully displaying to her.

I turned the phone back to me. He was gone. His muddy brown hair, strawberry red lips, honey-brown eyes. I cried, but I couldn’t hear the cry over the sullen thunder. But then I realised the thunder was my cry. 

A nefarious explosion of morose realisation was set loose in my mind, the remnants of my mind. 

I dropped the phone on the grass, took one last glance at my friends. Kenny was bolted upright, rain flattening her hair. Jared, laid still, like a potato, as the Earth absorbed him. 

I took steps back, increasing the distance between me and them. Kenny continued to stare at me, apathetically, but not as if she didn’t care, but as if she could see right through me. As if she realised what had happened to me, and she had little time for it. 

I turned around and darted through the School field, through the car park, and vacated through the gateway. Not looking back, because if I did, I wouldn’t have seen anything.

I ran through the business district for the last time.

The wind rushed against my face as if trying to demolish the small amount of sanity I had left. Tears spurted out, soaring out my eyes to be possessed by the dark rain droplets enclosing around me. 

A few inaudible screams exerted some of my pain. No one was around, no shops were open, it was just me, just me running. 

I ran down the street to the park, my leather shoes deriving a forceful clamping sound with every step I took. My palms were heaving with sweat that dripped down on the concrete ground. My sprinting came to a sudden stop once I reached the park. The skidding sound of my shoes decelerating caused his head to dart up from the ball between his feet. 

He was there, his blazer flung to the side, he seemed indifferent to the rain sinking through his fluffy hair.

He looked at me, eyebrows raised. Well, maybe not eyebrows raised; it was difficult to tell with his fluffy wet hair. 

I gulped. We stood staring at each other for a few minutes. It was finally happening. I was meeting him, only now it felt more scary than exciting. 

‘You’re not real,’ I said, tears clung onto my eyelashes for dear life.

‘Yes I am.’ He said, his eyebrows crossed, I was certain his eyebrows were crossed.

I heaved the steel hook eye upwards to unlock the gate, the smacking of my palm and the metal lingered for a while. I entered the park, for the last time. 

His eyes stayed on me, looking at me as I approached him.

‘Then how come no one else can see you?’ I asked.

‘Only special people can see me,’ He let out a bizarre laugh.

‘Am I special?’ 

‘Yes.’ He smiled at me. He spread his arms to gesture a hug and took a step forward. We were directly parallel to each other now. Just me and him in the park.

My hands were shaking, my lips were twitching, I couldn’t believe it. 

We were going to hug, yes it was finally happening. After everything, after the incessant daydreaming, the racing home to make sure I was at the park at the right time, the climbing trees, the filming, the buying of purposeless things, the failing grades, the detachment from my friends. 

Everything was gone just so I could be with him. Everything for this moment, for this hug. My instinctively expanding smile halted. I realised what was going on. My eyes began to frown. He began to frown, but not the same frown, a confused, perplexed frown. 

My frown turned into a grimace as I was realising the undeniable truth:  _ I’ve sacrificed my whole life, for this boy.  _

He dropped one hand to the side and reached one out. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I don’t think I want to go with you.’

‘Why?’ He asked. 

‘Because you’re bad, you’re bad for me, all this time I’ve been thinking about you. I don’t know how but you possess some strange hold on me.’ I took a few steps backwards but my eyes stayed on him. He took a few steps forward and his eyes stayed on me like they were reflections of each other.

‘Because you’re in love with me.’ He said, while reaching out his hand. 

‘I don’t think I can be in love with someone I don’t know. Or someone that isn’t real.’ My back pressed against the wooden fence. I couldn’t retreat any further, he was coming closer, his hand still reached out in front of me.

‘Oh, right. That makes sense.’ He put his hands in his pockets. ‘Now that we’ve met, are you in love with me?’ His face remained casual but his eyes stared at me earnestly.

‘Don’t think so.’ 

He shot his head up to the sky, his brown hair dangled over his ears. I looked up as well. A charcoal grey cloud was formulating above us, directly above us. The colours seemed to be ever-shifting; grey, black, dark blue. My teeth seemed to chatter in a volatile manner. I clenched my fists as tight as I can. 

‘Maybe like you could defy science? You could just be in love with me.’ His head was still directed up at the sky.

‘I don’t want to though.’ I was still staring up at the abnormal cloud.

‘Yes you do.’ He looked down again at me. He pulled his fingers through his fluffy hair to uncover his eyes fully. Only the eyes were no longer honey brown, they were dark, border lining black. He crossed his eyebrows to form one elongated snake.

I felt some strange shiver through my stomach. ‘Why would I want to be in love with a self-centred, arrogant asshole who just spends his time stuck up in his room imagining things that could never happen?’ I gasped then slammed my hand over my mouth The words escaped from my tongue without my autonomy. 

I had no idea where these words came from, I was shocked. I’d never thought he was a self-centred, arrogant asshole before. 

‘Get a real life, Cole!’ I stomped my feet, childish I know but I couldn’t seem to have much control or knowledge of what I was doing. 

_ Cole, his name was Cole. I didn’t know that. Did I just make that up? What was my name? I forgot my name? _

I had a name, of course I did but I couldn’t remember it. 

_ Jenny? Michael? Theodore? Josephine? _

I forgot my own name, but I knew his. I forgot what my interests were, but I know his. 

Sports, chess, and writing. Except those weren’t true. They weren’t his interests.

He collapsed to the floor, his knees colliding with the muddy grass. Rain spiralled down, stabbing him as his head sank into his hands. The rain must’ve spiralled down on me but I couldn’t seem to feel it anymore. I could only feel what he was feeling and he was feeling the rain stabbing him so I was as well, not on me but on him.

‘No! This is n-not h-how i-t’s meant t-to g-g-o!’ He recoiled before me. I was viewing him from above. 

Although I was not on the tree, I felt as though I was spectating him from the highest point possible.

‘W-what the fuck is wrong with me-e?’ his staggered words were coincided with spurts of agony, lamentation, nihilism. His hands were shaking in almost distorted vibrations, pain-inducing sniffles and cries projected from his enclosed face.

I felt pity for him, pity for this person which I thought I knew so well, but even he didn’t know who he was. It was impossible for me to know him if he couldn’t know who he was. 

‘Go! Please go!’ He cried, still continuing his existential crying.

I was gone. I went. I went somewhere, I didn’t know where but I went because he told me to. He didn’t want me to be there anymore so I wasn’t. He could do that because I wasn’t there and neither was he. I wasn’t anywhere literally and wasn’t anywhere metaphorically. I saw black.

_ He sits at his wooden desk, his hair fluffy brown, concealing his honey brown eyes. I don’t think about whether I like his fluffy hair or honey brown eyes, I just know that is what makes up his face. He wears a plain grey t-shirt which I assume he sleeps in.  _

_ The desk is the home of various writing utensils which seems to have formulated dust on top. A notepad, filled with jotted down notes that are too vague to interpret. Multiple scribbled out words or phrases.  _

_ His room walls are a beige colour, his bed is positioned in the far right corner and has black sheets. A wardrobe is placed directly next to the bed, it’s door is slightly ajar but still concealing his clothing purchases. The desk chair seems rather crooked and uncomfortable to sit in. He sits cross-legged nonetheless with his head resting on his cupped hands. Tears trickling down his cheeks, dropping down onto the wooden desk. They are silent tears, the worst type of tears, it is almost as if they aren’t there.  _

_ The dichotomy between the dark, solemn room and the vibrant stars flooding the night sky is off putting. The continuous motion of cars driving below his window, projects luminous lights throughout the town. The distant cry of drunkards; the boisterous beeping of angry drivers; the lively screams of delinquents running through the debris-scattered streets; it all fails to be processed and therefore unable to coincide with his current thoughts and feelings. He is distant from everything and everyone, everything and everyone on the planet. Even his safe place, his mind, the world he imagines, feels distant. That is why he is crying.  _

_ The tears join together, creating a puddle on the surface of the wooden desk. The puddle deluges into a pool, a pool of water. A pool of water that could directly reflect his fluffy brown hair, honey brown eyes and strawberry red lips. His hands still ensconced his face, concealing it from seeing himself through the pool of tears below him. He isn’t in love with his reflection anymore, or maybe he never was. He just knows he doesn’t want to see it again. His hands are now a barricade between himself and himself, how the world perceives him and how he wants to be perceived by the world. _


End file.
